


GINASFS

by queenofhell_proserpina



Series: Cultverse [2]
Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cults, Gabe's Basement, M/M, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2404292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofhell_proserpina/pseuds/queenofhell_proserpina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's warmer out of the basement, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	GINASFS

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after iphignia939's [that's where you live](http://iphignia939.livejournal.com/248040.html?nojs=1).

The next time they see Gabe after...just after, Pete does his best to keep Patrick away from him. He keeps Patrick glued to his side all night, dragging him from group to group, always one step ahead of Gabe. Patrick wants to tell him to stop, because he's seen mice in a terrarium before, the way they sniff around cautiously for a while, thinking they're safe until the snake comes over and unhinges its jaw, and he and Pete, they shouldn't have to act like those mice. They're not prey.

Well. Pete isn't, at least.

But on the other hand, he doesn't really want to see Gabe again right now, either. Sometimes he'll wake up and think he's still down there, under the lights with Gabe whispering in his ear, and sometimes when he's dreaming it gets all mixed up in his mind: Gabe on top of him, Pete on top of him; in the basement, in the van; Gabe's words, Pete's words. Its not the same thing at all, he knows that, but sometimes it feels the same.

Eventually, though, Kanye wanders up to them and asks Pete to come talk to him. "Those things you were saying last time we got together..." He shakes his head. "You're kinda fucked up, man, but I like that. I wanna hear more," and Pete can't resist that, he knows, so Patrick just nods at him.

"Go talk to Kanye, man. I'll be fine here," he says, patting the couch he's sitting on. Pete looks at him once, hard, and then touches his shoulder, finger stroking once over Patrick's pulse.

"Stay here," he says. "I'll find you later," and then he's gone, mouth already opening close to Kanye's ear.

Patrick just sits for a little while, draws on the condensation on his glass, taps out some beats on the arm of the couch, and then there's a hand on his arm. It's Gabe, of course, and just the feel of his hand through Patrick's sleeve makes him shiver.

"Hi, Patrick," Gabe says. He slides closer, slides an arm around Patrick's shoulders. "Miss me?"

"Not so much, no," Patrick says, trying to move away, but he's right up against the arm of the couch so that just means Gabe can press closer, and then even closer. They're in public, people milling all over, so he can't even get up, make a scene, leave. He'd like to think that them being in public means that Gabe can't try to fuck with him, either, but he knows Gabe, and he knows that Gabe can rewire someone's brain just using his voice--the same as with Pete, except that he uses Patrick's voice.

And it’s not the same thing, anyway, Gabe and Pete. They're not the same.

"I don't believe you," Gabe says, grinning. "I've missed you, but then, I can see you everyday if I want to. Has Pete showed you the tapes yet? You were so pretty down there, Patrick. You're good in front of a camera; you know just what angles to hit. Of course," he smirks, raising an eyebrow, "that could just be my marvelous direction, right?"

“What?” Patrick says, but Gabe ignores him, keeps talking like Patrick is just a body, something to touch and talk at but without a mind of it’s own.

"If Pete hasn't filmed you yet, he should. He got a copy of my time with you; I should get a copy of his. Don't you think?"

"Tapes?" Patrick says. He remembers--there were a lot of lights, everything was too bright to see anything except what was right in front of him (which was always, always Gabe), but there were boxy shapes in the corners of the room that might have been cameras. He doesn't know.

"Mmm-hmm," Gabe says into his ear. His voice is moist and hot, like a wire into Patrick's head. "Just like MTV, baby. You're a star," and he laughs. "Every time I went upstairs, Pete just couldn't take his eyes off you," and he has to be lying. He's--he's just being Gabe. Pete said that he wasn't there, didn't see any of it, didn't know, and Patrick has to believe him, because...just because. If he doesn't believe Pete, then there's nothing to believe in.

"You should ask him to show you sometime," Gabe says casually. "I think now that you have a little distance from it, you'll be able to appreciate my work more fully. That's what happened with Pete, right? He got a little distance from you, when you were with me, and after that he could appreciate you even more, right?" And he is right--afterwards, Pete had been more tender and more responsive to Patrick than he has been in a long time, touching him softly, getting him tea and water when Patrick just wanted to stay in bed, listening to Patrick speak like every word he says is precious.

Patrick wants to say something, a rebuttal, a denial, but then Gabe lets go of him and leaps off the couch. "William!" he yells across the room. "Sorry, Patrick, gotta catch up with my boy. He enjoyed your tapes, too," he says, grinning. "He says he likes the way you cry." And then he's gone, leaving Patrick alone again on the couch with just his thoughts and a drink that’s half melted ice.

When Pete comes back, he's smiling and laughing, a hickey on his neck. "Kanye, man," he says. "That guy gets it. He's got his own thing going on, too, but he gets it. He says he can't wait to do the remix, Patrick, God, its gonna be fucking killer." When he notices the look on Patrick's face, he stops smiling. "What's wrong? Did Gabe--" and Patrick knows that Pete can tell by the look on his face that yeah, Gabe did.

"I want to go," Patrick says, trying not to shake, and Pete just crouches next to the couch, palms his cheek softly.

"Okay," Pete says. "Okay, lets go."

When they get back to the hotel, Patrick sits down on the bed while Pete closes the door. He feels...heavy. Tired. When Pete sits next to him, Patrick leans into his side, into the warmth he always gives out like a planet or a sun. Pete has his own gravity, his own orbit, and it’s not something you can fight against. Patrick's tried, but he always ends up back here, locked in a room with Pete until Pete makes him believe again. He knows that this time will be no different.

"You okay, Patrick?" Pete says softly. His mouth is pressed against Patrick's temple, and Patrick can feel Pete's words buzzing into his blood, his brain.

"I want to see the tape," he says, and Pete draws in a breath beside him, going still.

"Patrick," he says quietly, voice cracking. Pete can lie right to his face, always could, except when he's directly confronted with the lie. "I...you don't have to--"

"I want to see it," Patrick says again. Pete breathes out hard against his cheek, then kisses it. When he brings the tape from his bag, it looks so innocuous in Pete's hand, just a plain, unlabeled VHS, like someone's graduation video. The box it's in is worn around the edges, like the tape's been pulled out of it and watched over and over again, and Patrick feels a little bit sick. "Put it in," he says, and his voice is rough, like he's been smoking or crying.

Pete looks at him, hard, but puts the tape in the player. They sit on the bed together, Pete's arm around Patrick's tense shoulders, and Patrick watches himself on the screen, crying, screaming, writhing under Gabe's hands. "Is that what I look like to you?" Patrick says. He feels far away from his voice, far away from everything.

"No," Pete says, voice raw, "no, no, Patrick. It's different with me, you know that. You're different. You're exactly what I need you to be. You're mine." He pulls Patrick’s face towards him, looking into his eyes. “You know that, right?”

"I'm yours," Patrick says, and it’s true. Even after this, its true, and Pete strokes his cheek, kisses him on the mouth.

“I was so proud of you down there, Patrick,” Pete says, voice thick with relief. He pushes Patrick down until he’s lying on his back, and then climbs on top of him, whispering into his mouth between kisses. “So proud, Patrick, you were so strong. I wanted to tell you that, but I couldn’t…I didn’t think you’d understand, but you’re so good for me, so good,” and Patrick is coming back, Pete’s touch grounding him in his body until he feels real again.

“I understand...I understand everything that I need to. I know that I’m yours. That’s enough,” Patrick says, and kisses back. In the background, Patrick can hear his own voice, swearing and yelling and finally breaking, and Gabe talking quietly to the Patrick on the screen, but here and now Patrick has Pete panting in his ear, sliding hot fingers under his shirt to touch his skin, and this is what’s real. This is enough.


End file.
